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Kaide Westmoreland
Email: gabthereader@yahoo.com Description Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Brown Height: 5'8 Weight: 155 Age: 16 Place of Origin: Stats Rank: Trainee Weaopon Score: 4 Philosophy: Not Choosen Yet Primary Weapon: Secondary Weapon: Tertiary Weapon: History Kaide sighed dismally as he leaned against his favorite rock. The sheep baaed and milled around each other, fighting over the few sprouts spring had produced this early. He looked over his shoulder at his aunt's house and he could see his cousin Deana beating a rug as if it had done her a personal wrong. He hated this place. His surly aunt and her spoiled daughters, the way they all treated him. His aunt went on and on about how sinful men were and took out on him every personal wrong done to her by her deceased husband who had been a good for nothing. His father and mother had both died at the same time as his unkle, all of the fever. His aunt had taken him in, it was her duty she said, but she made it plain that she was very put upon by doing it. When the cellar had begun emptying, she blamed him for her girls having to go hungry, as if he hadn't put every beet and turnip in that cellar with his own two hands. He had taken on all the manly duties of the house at the early age of eight, though he had been just a slip of a boy and felt as if he hadn't grown nearly enough for all his hard work. Other boys his age in the village were all filling out and growing into men, but he was still skinny as a bean pole. His aunt always said he'd be a foot taller if so much of him hadn't turned under for foot. Still though, he was wiry enough that he could keep up with any of those bigger boy's. "Kaide! Kaide! Momma want's more firewood!" Hennah called as she came waddling up. She certainly wasn't lacking in size he thought glumly as he relinquished the flock to her and went to chop wood. That night, laying on his pallett in the attic, he daydreamed about big cities and how someday he'd leave this place. He was good with horses, maybe he could hire on as a stable boy somewhere. Or a merchant's guard maybe. He smiled at the ceiling at the thought of it. Guards carried swords, not staff's, or a bow. Well, some carried bows he guessed, but most carried swords, and he'd only seen a sword when the merchants and their guards came to the village. Maybe they would teach him? No, he sighed, they didn't have time to teach him, they wanted men who could fight allready. Who would teach a boy his age to fight? The thought came to him and it was pure brilliance. The White Tower! He could be a warder! Of course, Davin told him they took in boys of all ages and taught them to be the most dangerous men in the world! Wouldn't Davin be jealous when he found out? He practically laughed out loud as he jumped out of bed and began getting his meager posessions together. He snuck out the back of the house after he grabbed some supplies of food and a water bag and began heading towards the village. His bow, he carried unstrung on his back for the time being, he expected no problems in the middle of the night, but he did carry his staff. He was better with it than the bow anyway. By the time his Aunt discovered he was gone, he had passed through the village and got a ride with a farmer and was well on his way south to Baerlon. He was sharing the road with miners and trappers from the mountains, but they mostly ignored him and that suited him. His head was full of dreams of glory and fighting and heroic deeds. Category:WS 4 Category:Trainee Category:Biographies Category:Warder Bios